The Alchemy of War
by Damar
Summary: When a alchemy accident goes terribly wrong, heroes and their enemies are sent through time and space to a world with paladins and orcs, a world of warcraft... FMAxWarcraft crossover
1. Chapter 1

**I do own not Warcraft or Full Metal Alchemist to my eternal regret... **

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**Dun Baldar**

**The Alterac Mountains in the Former Kingdom of Lordaeron**

The sun began to rise above the mountain tops, illuminating the snow that covered the cold rocks of the Alterac Mountains. In the southern parts of the valley, the largest in the mountain range, a settlement made from stone, wood and the intensive labour of hard-working peasants slowly came to life. Those who resided within the walled confinements of the heavily fortified Dun Baldar that served as the primairy base for the troops of the Alliance in the Alterac Mountains became awake, most unwillingly as it meant leaving the safety and serenity of sleep, and entering the eternal dread that was war. And it was damned cold too.

The doors of the small church that served as the Alliance hospital in the Valley, crewed by righteous priests, clerics and the paladins who were able to spare mana, or were free from the general order to preserve mana for battlefield purposes. Leaving the holy grounds were the men and women who had been healed from their wounds the previous day, mostly only requiring a single blessing of Holy Light and a good night's sleep. The ones who did not leave the hospital were the ones who suffered wounds beyond healing, curses beyond dispel or were simply dead and soon to be buried in the daily expanding graveyard which for safety reasons was removed a long way from the hospital. With Undead at their side, the Horde could not be trusted to respect the final resting place of many Alliance heroes.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Garrison!"

An Footman, the traditional backbone of the Human armies since the dawn of war, went through the crowd of people that were returning to their units or to the armoury to replace the armour and weapons that sustained damage or were lost entirely.

"I'm here, what is the matter?" A other footman called out, who only differed from the other footman in the way that his armour was more sleeker and without the rag-tagness that was common to the average soldier's gear. Also, his helmet that he was holding under a arm, had the inscribed markings of eagle wings on both ends. While Lieutenants had to with with a mere drawing of it, Captains had real ornaments shaped like wings attached to the sides of their helmets.

"Lieutenant, sir." The footman saluted Garrison. "I came to report that the officer's briefing has begun at the HQ and that Lord Arator has demanded your presence sir."

"Damn!" Without returning a salute, Garrison ran as fast as the armour could allow, even if it was a special light-weight armour only issued to officers it was still damned heavy to move, fight or run in. After passing a small convoy of knights and heading for their positions at the upcoming battle, the young lieutenant reached the fortress that served as the headquarters for the Alliance operations in the valley. When he entered the main chambers, everyone was already present, wich one of them made loudly clear.

"Lieutenant Garrison, so pleased you are finally ready to join us. We wouldn't dare to start without the commander of our most prestigous battleforce, now would we?"

Captain Benedict. Self-appointed and self-promoted Commander of the Kul Tiras Marine Corps. Survivor of the first failed attack on Durotar by the deceased Grand Admiral Proudmoore and one of the few to have been later rescued by a Alliance raiding party that took him and his men back to the Eastern Kingdoms. And as the Dwarves would say about him, 'an asshole not worth dyin' for'. The main reason why he was not sent back to Theramore to join the besieged forces there was because of his expressed desire to sack the place and kill Jaina Proudmoore. And unfortunately there were some who agreed. But amongst those who disagreed was Proudmoore's other offspring, Tanred Proudmoore and other high-ranking Alliance leaders who either still put a small faith in Jaina, or didn't want to promote inner conflicts that could destroy the entire Alliance.

So, in 'awaitance' of the 'upcoming offensive' to take in Theramore and execute Jaina and other traitors of Humanity, Benedict and his new Marine Corps comprised of fellow survivors and young naive recruits were sent to assist the Alliance forces in the Alterac Mountains. Because the main enemy were the Orcs of the Frostwolf Clan, Thrall's family clan, the Marines were more than happy to assist in their destruction.

"Captain. I'm sure that the Lieutenant has some excuse for being late after yesterday losing so many men and himself suffering a arrow through his shoulder, and yet still accomplish to hold the line and not lose any ground. So please, let's be civil and start the briefing for today."

That was another reason why Benedict was sent to Alterac. Since the near-extermination of Humanity in the Third War and many fleeing to rogue organisations like the Scarlet Crusade or the Defias Brotherhood, Humans have been unable to stage large operations and offensives of their own. Where non-Human forces had been a much-needed support in the past, now they were vital to the Alliance's survival. Therefor, Alliance commanders were assigned to posts not only because of their tactical skills, but also because of their political skills in order to have the different races work together.

The Alliance could ill-afford another Grand Marshal Garithos, and that is why the Half-Elf Arator the Redeemer was put in command of the troops based in Alterac. Son of Alleria Windrunner and Turalyon, and one of the highest-ranked paladins in the newly restored Order of the Silver Hand. And well-expierenced in dealing with men like Benedict, who gruffed and turned away from both Garrison and Lord Arator and looked down to the map on the large stone table around which everyone had gathered.

"First I have some bad news, gentlemen. While Garrison's brave defense caused the Horde's gamble to fail and their lines on the right flank to weaken and suffer near-decimation, that victory has been rendered void by the unexpected arrival of a company of Blood Elves, straight from Silvermoon. Even worse, Blood Knights were spotted amongst them."

Some officers cursed under their breath. While it seemed they finally had a chance to break through the Frostwolves's lines and finally take the Valley, the enemy recieved new troops. Troops that were fresh and not worn-down by months of continuous fighting, and even worse both mana-users ánd stealers. Especially the presence of Blood Knights, the corrupted version of a Paladin, was a hard hit. But motivation to fight this new foe was not lacking, as apart from demons and the undead, no race was more loathed than the Blood Elves, betrayers of all. There was even rumours of Kael'Thas, the prince that led his people into all of this, was now betraying the Betrayer himself. That had to be a record of some kind.

"To counter these new reinforcements, who will likely will be placed on the left flank to attempt to break through, Lt Garrison's 87th will be reinforced by Lt Spencer's company. Captain Benedict, this will mean you and your Marines will have to defend the right flank by yourselves."

"We do this gladly, in service of Kul Tiras." Or in other words, he will attempt to breakthrough himself and gain the honour in a achieved victory. If he failed and gets killed while doing so, the Alliance would have one less troublemaker.

"The Stormpike Guard, as always, has the main center."

"Ay! As it should be! Them mangy Frostdogs will 'ave their upcomeance today on the word of my fallen soldiers!" General Vanndar Stormpike, the oldest veteran by far and the person to have started this entire skirmish, was as always eager.

Garrison suspected the General to be somewhat insane, but there was no one else to lead the Stormpike Guard with a reputation and bond like his, and his tenacity was a positive trait in these circumstances. The commanders went their way to their respective units, leading them past the Bunkers and onward to the main battleground.

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**An Hour Later**

**South of the Fields of Strife**

At the base of the most forward Alliance bunkers, they stood.

Row after row, shoulderpiece to shoulderpiece, the Footmen of the Stormwind 87th Infantry Battalion stood at the ready, awaiting the onslaught that would happen in a few minutes. Exhaled breath errupted like smoke from volcanoes from the narrow gaps in the footmen's helmets, that also hid the fact most of the soldiers assembled were youngsters, barely out of school but now already at the battlefield. Nonetheless, some of them had become veterans who had sharpened their instinct to kill, and hardened their hearts to the horrors of war. While most still retained their exterior youthful appearance, their eyes revealed the old man inside.

"Alright men, look be at the ready when the signal comes. For those who are new here, I bloody don't care how scared and frightend you are! You are a soldier of Stormwind, but you are fighting for your loved ones. If you waver in battle, you will fall. And when you fall, we all fall! Fight for us! Fight for yourself! But above all, Fight for the Alliance!"

The soldiers raised their swords and shields, chanting the known phrases 'For Stormwind!' and 'For the Alliance!'. Lt Spencer who held a less high-pitched speech for his own troops, wandered through the lines to Garrison.

"Say, it could have been a bit less dramatic. My boys now look at me with big eyes and hope for me giving one of them speeches."

"I'm sorry Spence, but it's too early in the cursed morning to be more subtle. Besides, they could use the peptalk, it's colder than yesterday. Which is hard to believe if I wasn't here to witness it."

"Indeed. Even my faith in the Light is barely enough to avoid freezing my hooves off." Garrison and Spencer turned to the man who joined them, dressed in plate armour that was different in design than common Azerothean armour, also in both quality and size. And had a shine about it that went beyond very good polishing.

"Sir Aldar, glad to see you assigned to us for this battle."

The Draenei Paladin smiled, while putting down the heavy two-handed mace that has been the trademark weapon of a paladin throughout history. Even when the paladin in question came from another world. Guess it was universal tradition.

"Yes, a task that as you might know not a favoured one, and the brothers had to keep their relief hidden for me volunteering for it. But between you and me, I rather be somewhere else."

"Don't we all?" A anynomous voice said amongst the silent ranks of footmen.

Most officers would put heavy punishment on a soldier 'breaching' a talk between officers with defeatist talk, but since the chance of the soldier dying in combat soon was high, Garrison didn't raise a voice. And he silently agreed with the paladin and the footman.

A sudden flare of red light from above, clearly visible to all.

The signal to attack.

Garrison turned to Spencer and shook his hand while wishing him good luck before returning to his own unit, the 85th Stromgarde Brigade. Than Garrison nodded to Sir Aldar, who gave a nod in return to signify that he was ready. As the final preperation, the Lieutenant took his officer's helmet from beneath his arm and placed it over his head, his vision suddenly a lot more limited but his face and skull a lot more protected.

"Alright, here we go." Garrison softly spoke while unsheating his sword. This was the sign for the sergeants and corporals to start the walk to war and shout commands to their respective squads.

"Soldiers! Onwaaaaaard, MARCH!"

All together as one very large man, the soldiers began to move in tight formations and quickly closed ranks alongside their companions of the 85th. Moving in a steady pass through the morning fog, the small army advanced up the Fields of Strife, named for the fact that most of the fightings was done here. It was rare for either side to progress further than a bloodbath on these grounds. One lucky Gnome got as far as the Frostwolf Keep on one occasion, but was sent back in a giftwrap, alive suprisingly.

They were nearing the center of the fields, when in the distance the similairly-advancing waves of green in all tones and shades, appeared. The Frostwolf Clan, the strongest Horde force in the Alterac Mountains and who to Garrison's horror was now deployed against his flank, instead of the traditional center where they faced off with the Stormpike Guard. But the commander of the assembly of Footmen marching up against them, did not alter the plans. Because running away would be bad for morale. And in a insane logical way, he concluded it was best to inflict as much casualties upon the Frostwolves before his unit became decimated and giving the other Alliance troops a chance to stop the Horde from exploiting a breakthrough.

Than it started. The ominous appearance of a red burning circle in the area between Garrison's soldiers and the approaching Orcs. It was like some had drawn it with fire in the sky.

"WARLOCKS!" The name was called out loud, a attempt by a footman to name the unknown that was happening before him.

"Unlikely." Sir Aldar spoke while stepping forward to the front of the lines."If this was the work of warlocks, they would be near it, empowering it from afar is impossible. But they are nowhere in sight. And from the size of that spell up in the skies, it would require such source of energy that we known about it if had been present."

"Perhaps it is the Burning Legion, forcing itself a new way into our world?"

"Also unlikely. Though my knowledge of warlock magicks is few, I know that it requires a anchor point like a powerful magician or a construct like the Dark Portal." Some dark and cold thoughts ran through the minds of the Humans and one Draenei, thinking what implications a new Medivh or Gul'dan could have.

Than the circle errupted, causing a rift in the air that spread a almost-holy bright radiance. Everyone, Man and Orc, gazed at it, all with their own ideas of what it might be.

"Is-is it the Naaru, Paladin? Have they crossed worlds to aid us in great numbers at last?"

It wasn't the Naaru nor the Burning Legion. Nor was it a loud-mouthed braggart from the future. It was however, one of the most strangest collections of people to have fallen through a rift of time and space onto the snowy and still bloody from yesterday fields.

The first one to hit the cold and wet ground was the notorious murderer known only as Scar, who's primairy targets are a special class of the Amestrisian State Military, the State Alchemists. Soldiers and scientists who employed the science of alchemy and transmutation. It was an of analysis, to identify the intended material to be used, destruction, to break down the material to basic components, and reconstruction, to shape the substance into the desired form or with the desired properties.

Thanks to a 'gift' from his late brother, Scar had been able to use only the second step of alchemy. But that was more than enough for his quest to kill all State Alchemists, with his first and primairy target being the man who now landed a few metres away from him.

Zolf J. Kimbley. The Crimson Alchemist as they called him before he was locked away for murdering his fellow military countrymen. A series of fortunate events years later led to the war criminal with a lack of regard for human lives to be released from prison and now even close to regaining a full military comission to Lieutenant-Colonel Kimbley, if he would be so generous to hunt down and kill Scar. Which he had been attempting to do, aswell as Scar trying to do the same thing to him if it had not been for the current interruption.

Further away, was the person who as the only one managed to land on both feet as a cat and not like a sack of potatoes. It not being human might have something to do with it. Looking around in suprise, as it just moments ago had been somewhere completly else, where it was a lot warmer and more comfortable to walk around in tight and skimpy clothes. But it's mind was heated by the thought on revenge when it spotted the second-most hated creature in the world, and a direct plan to kill the unholy spawn was formed. But than it noticed the swarms of people surrounding it, both clad in heavy armour or green-skinned and carrying a big axe. Than a far more complicated plan for revenge was devised. To note, still needing to be devised as it first needed to know the factors.

"Brother! WHERE ARE YOU! Please brother, say something!"

Perhaps the most normal-looking, outwards at least, of the group, was the massive suit of armour that as good as one made out of emotion-less steel could was being nervous. He was certain that his bigger brother dissappeared before he did, but now after landing he was nowhere to be seen the snow-covered landscape, that was very crowded by strange people. But it was a later concern as the suit of armour was known as Alphonse Elric stood up to search further.

"Al..."

"BROTHER! I CAN HEAR YOU! WHERE ARE YOU!"

"B-beneath you, you dumb pile of SCRAP METAL!!"

Al looked down, and his elder brother was indeed laying beneath his armoured boots, and quickly jumped aside. He expected much yelling and shouting, after his brother was done catching the breath that he missed when his lungs had a armoured suit standing on them. Though it was hard to see, the young man known as Edward Elric was indeed the older brother of Alphonse Elric, while it would be natural to assume the other way around if you didn't notice the very little voice coming from the suit of armour and the photos before his 'accident'.

Ed and Al had been on the search for a way to restore their bodies, or parts of it in Ed's case who was forced to replace them with automechanical limbs, after a fatal mistake to resurrect their dead mother through alchemy. Both of them paid the price in that, and it had been the main motivation to continue searching for something. And in the end, they did find something. Only problem was that it would require human lives. A lot of them. So that was a moral and ethical deadend. But it wouldn't hurt to take it from someone who already has it, in Ed's opinion.

The youngest State Alchemist ever, lifted himself from the snow and wiped it away from his hair and his red coat. Than, as the last one of their little group, he discovered that to the left of them, was a large force of medieval-period armoured men. On the right of them, was a massive crowd of ugly green beasts with big tusks and even bigger sharpy things.

"Oh...I really didn't expect that to happen."

"But it has happend, brother. What should we do?"

"I-I think we should.." A massive explosion closeby suddenly made them aware of their fellow 'shipwrecks' and that they did not like either of them."-I think we should get away from those two maniacs first!"

Standing at both sides of the small theatrical display, the troops of the Alliance and the Horde stood in common confusion on how to deal with this strange new situation. Until from the ranks of Orcs, a large party of pointy-eared in golden-red armour soldiers came literally running towards the center, with the seeming intent to capture this weird prize.

Garrison, not intent on any humans, even really mysterious and freaky ones, to be captured by the Horde, or especially the Blood Elves.

"Soldiers! We must defend these fellow humans against the Horde! Follow me!" The Lieutenant went running head-on of his unit that swiftly began to follow him alongside Lt Spencer's group that followed Garrison's example.

While more confused by this sudden action from their supposed allies, the Frostwolves saw no mistake in what clearly was the Alliance beginning it's attack. That was something they could understand. And with howls of war, the Orcs went running after the Blood Elves in the direction of the similairy incoming and sprinting Humans.

It would have been funny. If it wasn't about to become very very bloody when both groups will clash with sword and axe.


	2. Chapter 2: A Tough Start

**Fields of Strife**

**Alterac Mountains**

"How did we ever end up in this situation, Al?"

"I think it started when Colonel Mustang asked us to track down Scar, and because we were looking for the Homonculi and they were looking for Scar you thought it was a good plan until we found Scar and than Kimbley found us and Scar because he was looking for-"

"I was there yes, don't summon up everything that happend in the last two days! My question was rhetorical!"

The events of which, led to Ed and Al being in the middle of a battlefield in some mountain range, with two massive armies from fantasy books charging at them from both sides. And there was Scar and Kimbley to consider, who had restarted their earlier vendetta and now were sending snow and dirt flying in explosions and destruction of the soil. Meanwhile, a banter that was less deadly but a lot more sharper went along with the struggle.

"You're dead, Alchemist!"

"Oh yeah? Than why are you still trying to kill me?"

No help from that side. But something had to be done, because not only were their own lives in danger, Ed refused to be in the middle of a mindless slaughter that he just might have caused, and allow people to die. Even the armies were comprised of soliders, that doesn't mean it was their duty to die before a rightful age.

So Ed did the only thing he could come up in the time he had before they would get crushed between the two sides. The young Alchemist clapped his hands together, and placed them down on the dirt. Blue bolts of what looked like electricity streamed into the soil, illuminating it while sending shockwaves all around. Than the ground start to move, rapidly. Than it began to chance, insanely.

Those who were at the front of the incoming ranks of soldiers and grunt, were the first to see how the earth just tore open, rocks began to pill out from the cracks and rised to the skies. It took seconds for the troops to realize that the massive erruption of earth was now effectively cutting through the entire Fields of Strife, in the shape of a rock wall that looked like nature made it, and not a unknown form of magic in just mere seconds.

And than they realized that they still running towards it. They tried to stop their charge and would have made it without bumping into the solid obstacle in front of them, if it was not for the ranks of men behind them who's helmet visor limited their view and thus only seeing what was directly in front of them. In this case, the back of their fellow footmen in the first row who suddenly stopped without explanation. And thus almost the entire 87th smashed into each other in a huge chain collision of heavy-armoured men, alongside their companions of the 85th. All thanks to that wall, that didn't happen to be there just a moment ago.

"What in the Light's name?"

Even Sir Aldar was incredibly wondered by this feat, though it was more by the nature of it, and how it was used to prevent fighting instead of ending it in a victory for one side. It hurted him that his duty would require to find out who and what was responsible for this act and see if it could help them, and not just be grateful.

On the other side of the battlefield, things went pretty much the same with the difference of it being caused by a overabundance of blood-lust instead of a lack of vision. When in battle, the common Orc forsakes all that could distract him from bringing down his axe upon the unlucky footman who happend to be in his path. That focus was so powerful, that it even made it possible for the Orcs to neglect the huge obstacle in their path, and only try to slow their advance at the moment they collided with a object who's tenacity to be unmoving is greater than their's.

"What is this, have the spirits of the Earth abandoned us in favour of those human dogs?" The desperate question came from a grunt, mumbling it through what remained of his tusks and teeth.

"No, Drek'Thar and the other shamans would have told us if they had incurred any wrath against the elemental forces." Captain Galvangar, wanted to prevent his soldiers to think that the Earth itself was now hostile to the Horde, and thus cause massive panic and thus lose the battle. In a way, the battle was already lost, since it was impossible to win with the enemy out of your reach.

"The word of a Shaman is as empty as the air he claims to control."

Besides the big wall, Galvangar's second most troubling issue was his supposed ally in this battle, the Blood Mage Eldrin Sunchaser and his kin, the Blood Elves. Arrogant, untrustworthy and more focused on getting their next 'siphon' than to win a battle. There was diplomacy, and there was cooperating with damned Blood Elves.

"Insults, are not taken lightly by Orcs, Blood Elf. I warn you to watch your words."

"..Is that a threat?" The blonde-haired elf with the distinctive burning green eyes, curled his lips into a daring smirk.

"No, a clear warning."

"Ah, I thought so. Orcs lack the mental capability to make subtle insinuations, even to the most primitive of acts."

Between the two walls that seperated the armies of the Alliance and the Horde, situated in a now-formed small gulch, were the brothers Elric who were glad to see one urgent problem be solved in a mostly unharmful way. But than a explosion and a hail of debris covering the two, pointed out that they were not alone.

"DIE ISHABALLAN!" A laughing Kimbley shouted, taunting Scar who appeared from the dustcloud created by the Crimson Alchemist's explosion, the tattoos on his right hand of doom glowing brightly.

As the explosion echoed away and the pebbles stopped raining down on their heads, Ed and Al concluded that it was time to deal with the other urgent problem, the two maniacs who arrived here with them.

"Al, you deal with Scar while I take out Kimbley."

"Okay brother-Hey, why do I have to deal with Scar! He destroyed half the suit when we last fought!"

"Which was good since there was still bits left. If Kimbley gets his hands on you, there won't be much left to transmutate you back to your old self."

"...Good point, brother."

By now, Scar and Kimbley were locked in a stand-off with them both preventing and trying to use their alchemy upon each other while maintaining a grip on each hands and arms. In a matter that now would decide the winner by physical strength, it was suprising that Scar was not the inmediate winner as his body has been trained for battle since he was born. Kimbley, despite his thinner frame and that he only until recently had been imprisoned for years, was holding his own by pure will.

Even when the sweat was dripping down his brows, the Crimson Alchemist could still give a amused grin while staring the determined Scar in the face.

"Don't tell me you're gonna waver now, when I'm in arm's length, are you Scar? I'm getting bored, so hurry up already."

Scar said nothing, he only increased his efforts beyond human limits, and now beyond Kimbley's insane limits as the right hand of doom was drawing close to his face without the alchemist being able to stop it.

"Hey!" Ed and Al ran towards the two, who only now seemed to notice the youngsters.

The both of them were so caught up in their little word of vengeance and nihilism, that they had forgotten about their younger companions. And it distracted Scar for a second, a second enough for Kimbley who used it to intensify his grip on the Ishballan's hand and pull it forward. But now instead of Kimbley's face, the hand landed on the surface of the wall. And due to the suprise and out of reflex, Scar unleashed the destructive energies that were generated in his arm, unto the wall. Cracks appeared alongside the surface, glowing bright red before it exploded and shattered a entire section of it.

Dust came over them all, obscuring everyone's vision while protecting their eyes and mouths to the debris that was blinding them. And when some of the dust settled, Kimbley was nowhere to be seen. Scar's head turned to left and right and was about to run further into the dustcloud to find the man who destroyed his life and his country when Ed called out to him.

"Scar! Halt, or we will take you down!"

"I have no time for you Elric, Kimbley must die. Don't try to stop me!"

"Halt! In the name of the Alliance!" Now it was Ed and Al's turn to looked suprised, to what was emerging from the dust of which most now began to fade away.

Kimbley and Scar caused a breach on the southern side of the wall, allowing the armies of the heavy-armoured humans that they saw advancing towards them. While unfortunate, it was better than accidently creating a opening to the monsterous green things who really didn't seem to like humans.

The first ones to fully emerge was a man, based on his masculine voice and the broad shoulders, though the full body-covering armour could have made Winry look like a Major Armstrong. He carried a long sword and shield, both in a defensive stance. Behind, a more impressive and more mysterious figure appeared. And a good two feet taller aswell.

The second stranger's armour was more a completly different and foreign, almost alien design. And when it moved it's head and moved his mouth into a questioning gap, the Elrics and Scar realized that it was actual skin and that he was not a human being. More facts that pointed that out were the hoves, and the short tail on his lower back. He looked like Tucker, but with what creature this person had been transmuted with, was beyond knowledge.

"Ed, what is this place?"

"You, be silent!" The human, or so they hoped, called out. More humans appeared in the breach, who wore a lesser decorated and more heavy-looking armour than the first one, who than likely was their leader.

"Until you have identified yourselves, you are all put under arrest for interferring with military matters!"

Mentioning 'military' and 'arrest', was one of many red flaggs in Scar's mind, who without warning rushed at the human commander. And moving with a speed that surpasses and suprises most people, Scar would have had a good opportunity at turning Lieutenant Garrison's head into hamburger meat, as he had done with numerous soldiers and State Alchemists in the past. If not for the swift spell cast by the Draenei Paladin, who unleashed the Hammer of Justice upon Scar. The holy spell struck the Ishballan in the chest, and made him fly backwards to the other side of the narrow gulch. While it knocked him away, it did not stun him as Scar managed to get on his feet quickly.

The paladin raised his two-handed mace to prepare for another attack from the aggresive human, the Elrics and Garrison being not able to do anything more than to stare. A new explosion, this one with a lot of flame, errupted just next to Scar who jumped aside while nearly scorched. The paladin, Garrison and the Elrics backed away from the intense heat, before it faded away and it became possible to breath again.

At the site of the fire explosion was a massive gap of melted rock of which most had turned to glass. And yet it took only seconds before a new contender entered through it, unphased by the remaining heat.

Unlike the dull silver and grey metal of the paladin and the footmen, this stranger wore a large black cloak lined with gold, with enormous red-gold shoulderpieces, who were cheap decorations compaired to the luxurious golden suit of armour beneath it. Even to the Elrics, who were only in this world for a few minutes, the newcomer seemed extremely and abominably decadent in a gardrobe that seemed fit for a late night dance show, not combat. The nerfarious smirk on the pointy-eared stranger, gave him a slight resemblance to Kimbley, where ever he might have run off to. Several soldiers in the same style as the former, but more practical along with large two-bladed swords, emerged from the opening and stood at his side.

"I am Eldrin Sunchaser, Blood Mage and commander of the Crimson Novas, Member of the Supreme Blood Elves of Quel'Thalas..." And before continueing, he glanced at Scar and the Elrics. "And you...belong to us now. For the Glory of Kael'thas!"


	3. Chapter 3: A Rocky Beginning

**Outside the Fields of Strife**

**Alterac Mountains**

"Well this sucks."

In a never-ending need for more soldiers, the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken, had ordered all possible efforts to gain corpses, preferably warriors, had to be obtained as undead lacked the reproductive abilities of mortals. Besides leading to a increased rate of failed suicides, it forced a crew of undead to man a Meatwagon and stakeout the fields of battle in Alterac Valley.

When the battle of the day was over, the Forsaken would hurry to collect as much bodies as they could before retreating in time before the collectors of the Horde and the Alliance would come to claim their own. The Alliance was unable to act against them since they hid behind the Horde lines, and the Horde was unable to act since any attack upon the Forsaken would lead to an inmediate breaking apart of a alliance Thrall insisted on maintaining, along with the Blood Elves more likely to side with the undead than with the Horde factions in Kalimdor.

But how vile and disgusting the work of the undead present at Alterac Valley may be, they had limits. Such as only taking bodies when they're dead, or mostly. And thus far, the armies down below failed to have lost even one soldier, due to the dreaded interruption of a wall coming between both sides.

"For cryin' out loud! Why don't those bastards get some ballistas and catapults and pull the damned thing down! We've got to have at least 50 fresh bodies, or that bloody ghoul will have our skin! I like what's left of my skin, gentlemen!"

"Yeah yeah. Alterac ain't the only place with dumb bastards getting kil-Hey, a rabbit! I got dibs!" The undead worker ran after a small white rabbit that had hoped into sight. The rabbit was in great disfortune of undead being eternally hungry, since they lost the sense of taste and thus quality, they have to make up with quanity. The rabbit leaped away, with the hungry undead close behind, before they both vanished behind the Meatwagon. His superior turned away and back to the battle that seemed to go nowhere. A minute passed, with still no visible casualty, though the explosions do inspire hope.

"Fight damnit! Come on, come on you cowards! Somebody has to die today!"

"Even when it is you?"

The undead supervisor turned around, just in time to see a foot going for his neck. Upon impact, it snapped like a twig and the undead saw the world suddenly going upside down, while his body remained up. His head fell into the snow, giving a bit of a half view on what attacked him.

"Wha-What the hell are you!"

"I might ask the same to the head without a body." The Supervisor suddenly felt a tremendous pressure on his head, a bare foot was pushing down with strength that seemed unlikely for his attacker's small frame.

"Now, you will answer some questions, or I will find out how far your apparent refusal to die goes."

The Supervisor, hoping on a chance that some very friendly undead priest would be able to reattach the head later on, assuming someone will find him, blinked his eyes as a 'Yes' since he lacked a neck to nod.

"Great. So first, what is this world?"

"..Azeroth." It became clear that this being was not from this world. So likely a mental case, or just a very unpleasant dimensional visitor.

"Not saying the slightest sense, but there's the follow up. What is the nearest city?"

"..Uh, that would be our capital, the Undercity."

"Good. Where is it?"

"..Why should I-" The supervisor's skull began to crack "-It's North-West! Just follow the lake to the west and move up north! You can't miss it!"

And as of a sudden, the pressure was gone. From his low point of view, the undead could see the monster that attacked him, simply walk away in a eased pace.

"Hey wait! You're not even going to ask me how-"

"-Fine you'll be as a football?" The creature known as Envy in another world turned to the unliving head with a smile so filled of sadistic pleasure, it freezed up before it got a chance to scream as the Homonculus kicked the head away at a bullet speed. The Forsaken's flight ended when his skull was scattered to a dozen pieces when impacting one of the surrounding mountains.

And moving along the road that would take travellers to the dark necropolis that the Forsaken called 'home', a being changed from it's original form to a more suitable disguise, a average looking undead warrior of no importance.

_The both of them will burn for bringing me here. But I can only give them a quick death at this point, and that's far more than either deserves. In this strange world, there's bound to be a better way to kill someone you hate._

**Fields of Strife**

"I am Eldrin Sunchaser, Blood Mage and commander of the Crimson Novas, Member of the Supreme Blood Elves of Quel'Thalas..." And before continueing, he glanced at Scar and the Elrics. "And you...belong to us now. **For the Glory of Kael'thas!**"

Ed turned to Al, who raised his shoulderpads as his sign of confusion.

"Is he being serious? In thát outfit?"

"Maybe he's some local jester, like the ones in those books about the medieval ages."

"Hey.."

"No, no, those have suits of ordinary cloth with sometimes bells attached, this guy just gold-painted tin foil and a silly cape."

"Hey!"

"But this is a different world, so maybe they have different costumes for jesters. And this a battlefield with lots of shouting and fighting, so he would have a reason to dressing this ridiclous."

"Don't forget his witless bantering, that's sure to amuse people during combat. He could distract them long enough to stop killing each other, and instead just laugh at him in a justified mockery."

"**SILENCE YOU INSOLENT WRETCHES!**" Eldrin's eyes burned a fiery emerald heat, and the soil around him began to melt and instantly dry up. And that was before the flames came pouring out his hands and circling around the Blood Elf in a spiral-shape. "Novas, Attack!"

"Yeah, we were hoping you would say that. Al?"

"All finished, brother." The large armoured suit kneeled down and pressed his hands agains the transmutation circle that he drew his foot during the short staged conversation that was meant to distract and anger the Blood Elf. And it worked, as the circle flared up, and the ground between them and the charging Novas trembled and suddenly formed a massive closed fist that smashed right into their lines.

The Blood Elves collided like the tincan version of a bowling strike, with them serving as the pins that were scattered and thrown apart. Some of the Novas managed to dodge the alchemy attack, and one managed to get so close that he raised his double-bladed glaive and striked down on the kneeling person in the armour suit, but than found his weapon blocked by the far smaller human's handblade who jumped in between, and than felt his jaw break as the tiny human gave him a uppercut with the remaining free hand.

But the confusion only lasted seconds, and the fist-shaped boulder was blown apart by a fire bolt, with a even more furious Eldrin practically foaming at the way how he was used and mocked. Now, all thought of capturing the strangers was replaced by a strong intense desire to kill them all.

The Blood Mage lurched forward, a orb of fire growing in his hand to the size of a basketball that he than threw at the Elric Brothers. Ed was still standing up and kicking the Blood Elf who attacked them in the ribs, and Al used the nearest available clean ground to draw the transmutation circle for the earth-based attack, so neither could conjure alchemy fast enough to save them from the fire spell. There was one however, who could.

"Let the Divine Light shield us!" The Chimera in armour leapt forward in front of the two boys, and casted a blue-radiating dome that covered them. The firebolt exploded against it, and the force behind made Sir Aldar take a few paces backwards but he held and finally the flames lost their strength and faded away.

The Lieutenant stepped forward with several of the Footmen following. "Aldar, get them back to our lines, we will cover the retreat."

"Hey, what about Scar and Kimbley!" Ed called out despite not liking the Ishaballan or the criminal Alchemist for both of them being cold-blooded murderers, he didn't really to see them getting killed, how convenient it might be. A big explosion rocked the ground moments later, with in the distance someone laughing very hard.

"Never mind, let's go!"

The Novas followed in pursuit, Eldrin screaming for their capture or death, whatever comes the fastest. With the gnome-sized human and his Tauren-sized bodyguard being protected by Alliance soldiers, the Blood Elves went after Scar with the idea of him being a lot easyier to deal with. That illusion ended with the first Nova grabbing onto his shoulder, and the following second found himself flying while his arm was dislocated.

The second Nova than decided it would be too much pain and trouble to capture the dark-skinned human and swing a glaive at him. The Alchemist-Killer took almost casual ease in dodging the attack, dove under a second one and gripped the Blood Elf's face who looked suprised for a few seconds while red electrical bursts went into him. Than his head exploded, and his helmet flew away in a rain of blood, brains and itty bits of skull.

This made the rest of the Novas a lot less enthuastic, and more inclined to wait until they were with more or someone with a powerful spell that could obliterate the human from a safe distance. Problem was, Scar wasn't going to wait. After a mere glance towards the Elrics and confirmed they being out of harm's way, he rammed his right arm into the ground and did work of God.

It started with slight tremors, which was immediately followed up with a massive earthquake that tore apart the ground between the two high walls, and it ended with a dramatic collapse of it all into gigantic chunks coming down on the people who had remained in between the walls. Blood Elves were crushed and maimed by the boulders descending down on them.

Those outside of the walls moved away in a hurried pace, the humans on one side and the Orcs on the other. They avoided the rubble coming down, and despite their main obstacle from killing each other in bloody melee having been brought down, a large cloud of dust obscured the sights of both and thus would lead to a unwanted confused battle. And after what happened, not even the Orcs were motivated enough to continue the battle that was over before it even started.

Captain Galvangar took command of his disgruntled soldiers, who despite having no love for the arrogant pointy-ears, found their decimation to be ill-favoured for any hope to win.

"Stop staring with your drooling jaws! Stone Guard Cruthak, assemble a party and scour the ruins for survivors. The rest will fall back to the Iceblood Garrison. We can chop the pinskins to bloody chunks tomorrow. Not like they're planning to leave or surrender any time soon."

In case it were too many big words for some of the grunts, illiteracy was still a major problem for the Horde, Galvangar gave a might warcry to make them move out. He nodded to Cruthak, who gave a smaller roar himself to call his group into the ruins.

As carefully as seven-foot tall Orcs could move, they wandered around admist the shattered rocks. Any Blood Elf they found still alive, was either too arrogant to accept their help or too shell-shocked to even acknowledge their presence. They even found a angry Eldrin Sunchaser who apart from some cuts and bruises, remained unhurt, to their displeasure.

"Useless green maggots! Where were you! The hope to the saving has been crushed while you just stood around and did nothing! You mangy dogs better believe that there will payment from this, and I will have your thick hides!"

They watched him limp back to the Horde lines, and continued onward. Talk like that were common from the Blood Elves, but acts were rare. After a few minutes, they nearly completed their task. All those survived walked or were carried back to their base, leaving none but the dead or soon to be. Than they saw a pile of small rocks moving, as someone who had been buried was attempting reach the surface. With some haste, but not too hasty as it was likely one of those pointy-ears lying under there, they travelled to the spot and helped to clear the debris until a hand stuck out. Being creatures of some strength, Cruthak grabbed the hand and pull it along with the attached body from it's dire position.

To the Orc's surprise, it wasn't a pointy-eared bastard he saved from the rubble, but something almost as bad. A human, though this one was of the more rare dark-skinned ones, and did not wear a uniform or armour. In fact, the clothes of the human seemed rather odd compaired to what most people wore. Apart from the fact that the orange jacket had a sleeve missing, his white short was ripped and the black pants torn. The human wasn't in better shape, and barely looked like he was going to survive standing for the next moment. It spitted out a mouthful of blood on the rocks, and glanced at the Orcs around him with one eye as the other was closed and swollen.

"So…who will be..nex-"

And the mighty Ishballan fell over with a heavy thud, unconscious, upon the rocks. The Orcs, confused at the sudden stop of what might have been a good challenge, were unclear how to proceed from here. Until finally one of them raised his axe, intent on giving the human a proper death before the Blood Elves got their demon-tainted hands on him and afflict unimaginable tortures.

"Hold. We will take this one back to Drek'thar."

"But Cruthak, it's a human and the Blood Elves already claimed whatever we should find."

"The Elves can burn in the Twisting Nether for all I care. Our leaders will want to know what happened here today, not what lies and deceits the demon-tainted kin will give us. Pick him up and take him to a shaman."

**Dun Baldar**

Flanked by Footmen, the small party that consisted out of the Elric Brothers, Lieutenant Garrison and Sir Aldar, made their way to the upper chambers where the generals and commanders met and discussed their plans and would be waiting for Ed and Al to give their explanation of who they were and what happened.

Before that, they spend hours waiting in one of the outer forts, Garrison's forces redirected to the other lines to aid and drive back the Horde enemies. Despite not being treated badly, even given warm drinks and food of which they never tasted or even heard of, the brothers could still feel the cold gazes laid upon them from the Footmen and the short bearded men who were referred to as 'Dwarves'.

But after seeing Sir Aldar, and even a purple-skinned Elf whom seemed distant related to the ones that try to capture him and Al, Ed considered things could be weirder.

After Garrison returned from battle, all mud- and bloodcovered, they were taken to the fortress behind the lines from where the daily skirmishes from the Alliance side were coordinated. During their walk through the corridors, Ed and Al saw clean shaven officers in shiny plate armour walk side by side with rugged field commanders in busted-up and dirt-soiled mail vests, argueing about the positions of troops and compairing casualty reports.

The brothers began to realize some of the size of the war they've landed in, and their desire to return home even made more desperate. Not mention this being an incredible delay on their quest to find the Philosofer's Stone. They arrived at a grand hall located in the upper levels of the fortress, the centre being dominated by a large stone table that had the entire valley sculptured with great accuracy and detail. The surface was covered with little flags that were divided in several colours, the primairy being the blue and gold that were concentrated on the north end and the red and white at the southern end. The flags were moved around by men and women of all colour and heights, loudly discussing and argueing where to plant them tomorrow.

"Lord Arator, here are the 'guests' whom I assumed you would want to see inmediatly."

Almost as tall as Aldar, Arator turned away from the miniature battlefield and gazed down to the Elrics, whom were a little confused as to why one of those pointy-eared thugs who tried to capture them, was in command of the opposing side.

The High Elf, an skilled observer, felt the stares. Even from the empty suit of armour. He smiled.

"Do not be afraid, I'm not like my cousins."

"Your cousins?"

"The Blood Elves, that was the name they took when they abandoned sanity and decency, to satifsy their lust for magic and fall in with the enemy, and even worse, demons. And to think we once felt so superior to the Orcs for not being corrupted like they were. A sad tale, but one amongst many in this time of darkness..."

The Elrics continue to stare to Arator who seemed to have fallen in nostalgic melancholy.

"Uhm, I guess so long you're not out to kill-"

"-Or imprison us for creepy rituals or scientific experiments-"

"-You're okay. But for now, we would really like to know where we are."

"Where you...are?" Arator glanced at Garrison, who shrugged to signify his inability to comphrend. Sir Aldar however, seemed to be giving the boy's words thought.

"Paladin? Do you have a possible answer for them, or am I simply to declare them mad?"

Edward had the urge to plant his automail fist into the pointy-eared's face, but Alphonse knew his older brother well enough to put two heavy gauntlets on both his shoulders as an precaution.

"I might sir. With their sudden appearance, along with their lack of knowledge of this world, I am assuming that like my people and the Orcs, the strangers have come from another world, although against their choice. Severe misuse of demon magic is likely to have been the cause?"

"Magic? _Misuse_? Why I oughta-"

"Brother please!" Alphonse didn't want to upset the people whom's help they clearly needed if they ever wanted to return home, so he did his best from stopping Ed from breaking the Chimera's nose until he calmed down enough for them to continue the conversation.

**Iceblood Garrison**

Galvangar's warriors arrived at their stronghold located near the Fields, confused and unsatisfied from the lack of fighting. Only a few silently thanked the Spirits for finally getting a chance to mend their broken arms or legs, or getting a replacement for the war axe that had fallen apart three days ago. But no one had the intent to do anything more than stay away from the small tent encampment just outside the stronghold's walls.

The occupants were Blood-Elves, and even outside the range of their eyes the Orcs could still smell the brimestone stench of demon-magic. It was suffocating, repulsing and the Captain already gave out an warning to his superiors that the traitors finish their business in Alterac quick before a warrior cannot restrain himself and bring his axe down on a supposed ally.

Not that the Elves cared. As long as they got what they wanted, and they always did, they'd suit with any looks of contempt. But now, with half their number killed or crippled, even the comfort that their magically-lit fires, magically-levitated lanterns and magically-empowered guardians did little to ease their anger. In the largest tent, obiviously belonging to the person in charge, long rants that involve inflicting pain on everyone but himself were heard from afar. It made the Blood Elves approaching the tent with their prize a little apprehension.

They entered a lavish and decadent interior, with their Lord and Master sitting on a luxerious oak bench with satin covering, pouting as he looked at the suit of armour ruined by today's battle. That he would need to wait days for before the suit can be returned to Silvermoon and all scratches and dents removed, was just another tragedy compaired to the loss of life and limbs among his ranks, and his personal failure. Only a few moments further he noticed there were visitors.

"Why are you disturbing my sorrow!" The hands of the Blood Mage suddenly lighting up in fire, made his subjects quick to respond.

"Sir, we have have recovered a survivor from the battlefield." The soldier nodded to others behind him, who quickly brought forth a human that they held by each shoulder until they were close enough to their leader, and pushed him forward.

The human was a odd sight, dressed in unfamilair clothes and his long black hair tied in a ponytail. Just like everyone involved in the big explosion, he showed the necessairy cuts, shreds, bruises and a battered up eye. The most remarkable feature however was the sly smile stuck on his face as if he was in no trouble at all.

"Hmph. Don't get tourists around here much, do ya?"

"Silence wretch!" One of the Blood Elves kicked the human in the back of his knees, causing the insolent one to fall down. He winced for a moment, but quickly regained his casual look.

"No suprise, with this kind of treatment."

The Blood Elf was infuriated more and drew his sword to end his tongue. But Eldrin Sunchaser raised a hand and ceased his action. He stood up, amused by the mortal's arrogance and defiance. Studying the peculiar human for a few moments, he gestured for one of his lieutenants to come closer. The Elf in question was up to promotion for Captain, especially since most competitors had been buried beneath heavy rocks.

"Put this one on a Dragon Hawk and head for Silvermoon along with an escort at nightfall. We will have at least recovered something from this...fiasco, if only a miserable human whom we teach some manners before an agonizing death."


End file.
